While it was snowing in Seattle in January of 2012, two friends of mine and I explored Volunteer Park. It was the first time I had ever seen a snowfall in a natural setting, and watching it drift in in waves as the sky grew dimmer was nothing short of enchanting. We ran across flat surfaces that had once been full of tiny mounds and depressions, threw snowballs and shook the powder off of thin tree-branches, raining cold dust upon unsuspecting walkers below. All the while, the leaves, the rocks, the very ground sparkled with otherworldly scintillation, as the sleeping Earth rested under our feet. As night fell, the glimmer of moonlight upon the fallen snow transfigured the land, bequeathing us a new realm full of magic and mischief. As we eventually left the park, I could not help but notice that every surface I saw was just as stunningly beautiful as the natural splendor we had just left. Under inches of snow, who can discern grass from concrete or asphalt? That night, nature laid its white carpet all the way to our door, and as I warmed up with a hot toddy I gave thanks to the great forces around and above that we might be so blessed– not only to have experienced this frigid bounty, but to have a respite from it as well.
(A note: The enclosed photo was taken not at the park, but about a mile away at the waterfront. It was remarkably hard to get a clear photo from a cellular phone camera in a snow flurry, so I chose the clearest and most striking from my album, rather than the most area-specific.)